


Doctor

by bananasandroses (achuislemochroi)



Series: Whofic [11]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 4X13 (Journey's End), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Choose Life, F/M, Fix-It, Tenth Doctor Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-07
Updated: 2009-05-07
Packaged: 2018-08-08 23:52:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7778500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achuislemochroi/pseuds/bananasandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s <i>not</i> about to let him get away with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor

It’s as natural as breathing to kiss him, the Other, once he says he loves her. She thinks it may well be the nearest she’ll ever get to hearing it from _his_ lips, and kissing this carbon-copy of him could possibly be the closest she’ll ever get to _that_ , too.

Something makes her pull away, though, just in time to see the Doctor, the one she’s spent so long fighting to get back to, start to walk away from her and back to the TARDIS with Donna – and it’s like a bucket of water over her. The realisation of what he’s about to do stuns her.

_Oh no you don’t. You’re not doing that to me again._

“I —” She looks at the Other in the blue suit – _why had nobody told him that blue was not his colour?_ – and she knows she can’t begin to apologise enough for what she’s about to do to him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I wish this could be different – that I could stay – but I _can’t_.”

“Rose?”

He sounds confused, and hurt, and the guilt for what she’s doing would crush her if she let it, but she can’t. There’s no time to think of it because she has to catch the Doctor before he abandons her here with a man who looks and sounds like him but who _isn’t_ him, not really. Not in the ways she wants and needs him to be.

“ _Rose_!”

He calls after her, but she ignores him – as she knows she must. The knowledge of what she’s done is hard, and she feels terrible, but if this is the only chance she’ll ever have to put right what went wrong at Canary Wharf, she knows she has to carry on. For once in her life, she has the courage of her conviction, is making decisions that she knows will change everything. It – that conviction, that unswerving belief that what she’s doing is right – will have to be enough. He cries out to her again and the obvious, real pain in his voice slashes deeply at her, but she’s closed her ears and her heart to him now.

She’s made her choice.

It makes her more like _him_ than she’s ever been. Her mother has made pointed remarks on this subject on more than one occasion, but she’s shrugged them off because (even if it is her mother she’s talking about) she doesn’t care what anybody else thinks about the Doctor. And it’s because of how similar to him she’s become that that she thinks she knows what he’s trying to do. But the thought becomes blurred as she starts running – because she knows there’s no time to waste – and she catches up with her Doctor just as he is half-way through the TARDIS doors. She lunges for him and catches hold of his arm, stopping him from going any further forward.

“ _Rose_?”

His voice pitches slightly higher than usual and she can hear the hint, just a hint, of disbelieving hope hidden beneath. He moves her hand from his arm and the two of them continue on into the TARDIS; he tries to embrace her, but she evades him. Although she is furious with him, when she sees a hurt look (that he doesn’t conceal quickly enough) cross his face, there’s nevertheless a twinge of something that feels a lot like guilt. She smothers it, trying not to let it visibly affect her, knowing that he’ll use it to his advantage. It’s part of who he is.

“Rose?” His voice is softer now and closer to its usual pitch ... and is that relief that she can hear in it? Is he _relieved_ that she’s seen through his – admittedly rather brilliant, if she does say so herself – attempt at chicanery? She decides to find out. For once, the direct approach might be the best way of dealing with things.

“‘You can spend the rest of your life with me’, you said.” She laughs, but it’s not a pleasant sound and he winces at it. “Not going to leave me behind like you did Sarah Jane, you said. Forgive me, _Doctor_ ,” she practically spits the word, her temper rising, “but it doesn’t look like that from where I’m standing.”

“But I haven’t left you,” he protests dumbly, pointing over to where his _Doppelgänger_ stands looking back at them. “I’m right there.”

“Save it,” she snaps, trying to hold on to what remains of her temper and finding it more difficult to do than she’d thought. “We both know, don’t we, that he isn’t really you – yes, he looks like you and talks like you, but in the ways that matter he _isn’t_ — what are you doing?”

She tails off her rant, biting down on her anger and forcing it down, as she sees him moving towards the console.

“What does it look like?” His voice has an defensive edge to it now, almost as if he’s willing her to challenge him. “I told you, out there. This reality’s sealing itself off, for ever. If I don’t go now, I’ll never make it back.”

“You were going to leave me there, without even saying good-bye?”

He says nothing, but continues with the dematerialisation sequence she knows so well. Soon all that’s left to do is for him to pull the handbrake and they’ll be gone, but his hand hesitates. He looks up, and even through her own anger she can see his pain: he’s broadcasting it so clearly it’s impossible to ignore.

“Rose —” It’s been a long time since anybody’s said her name like that, wrapping love and longing in it together with so much pain it surprises her he’s still standing. “Rose, it’s up to you. You can stay here, if you want; with your mum, and Pete ... and him.”

Still giving her a choice, still assuming she doesn’t want to stay with him. _Still trying to make your decisions for you_ , her subconscious tries to goad her, but she’s only half-listening. She wonders what it will take to get him to believe she loves him – but right now, all that matters is getting him to believe that she wants to stay.

“But he isn’t _you_ , is he?”

He doesn’t say anything and he can’t look at her. Answer enough, she thinks, and continues.

“I can’t stay here with him, Doctor. I can’t. How can I stay with somebody who has your memories, copied across like you’d do with a computer file, but who hasn’t lived _any_ of them? How can I leave you when I promised I never would?”

“But your mother ...”

“Knows exactly what I was planning to do when I found you again.” Her voice wobbles, but he pretends not to notice and it gives her the strength she needs to finish. “She doesn’t like it much, but she accepts it. She has Pete, and Tony: she’s fine.”

He nods, and pulls the handbrake – and she knows she’s won. The Doctor has let her have what she wants, seemingly against his better judgement. But it hasn’t been pretty – and the guilt for what she’s done to the Other, as well as the anger she still feels towards the Doctor mean she’s not as exultant as she might otherwise have been. He sees something in her face and offers her his hand: she takes it and lets him pull her into a crushing embrace.

All is silent for a few minutes, save for the normal noise of the TARDIS. And then Donna, who has been quietly standing watching the drama play out before her, speaks.

“I thought we could try the planet Felspoon next,” she says in a conversational tone completely at odds with the mood of the others around her. “Just ’cause. _What_ a good name, ‘Felspoon’. Apparently, it’s got mountains that sway in the breeze.”

She’s sure she doesn’t imagine the terrible sadness in the Doctor’s eyes as he looks steadily at Donna – but how can this be bad? Donna talks on, oblivious to everything.

“Mountains that move. Can you imagine?”


End file.
